


Enlightenment

by hisconsciousdarkness



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Bottom Hannibal, Bottom Will, Cannibalism, Dark Will, Eventual Smut, Hannibal is Hannibal, Hannibal is a Cannibal, Light BDSM, M/M, Murder, Murder Husbands, Top Hannibal, Top Will, Violence, Will is a psychologist, a lot of metaphors
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-07-12 17:48:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7116148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hisconsciousdarkness/pseuds/hisconsciousdarkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years ago the Chesapeake Ripper got caught, and Will followed his trial intensively. But when finally given the chance to interview Dr. Lecter for his doctoral thesis, how far is he willing to go in the name of science?</p>
<p>And is even Will himself aware what his true intentions are?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There's two of us writing this, and we will try to post a chapter every two weeks (sometimes more often) We hope you will enjoy reading this as much as we enjoy writing this!

The figure of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane grew bigger in Will's eyes as he drove closer. It was big and made of grey stone, and the spruces in front of it made it seem grim. Will wondered what the architect had been thinking when he designed it - why didn't he make it delicate and surrounded by flowers. Wondered, if even the concept of insane criminals made people melancholic - and why it didn't make him.

Will had always been fascinated by the darkness of the human mind - some people might call it an obsession, but Will preferred to think he was intrigued - that is what had driven him to study psychology in the first place. The same fascination was what two months ago caused him to write a letter to the famous serial killer, Hannibal "the Cannibal" Lecter. Will had been keeping track of Lecter's trial from the beginning, and when the time came for him to think of a subject for his doctoral thesis, there was no question who he would write it about.

Will in some way felt like he knew Dr. Lecter. It wasn't uncommon for him to emphatize with killers, or with anyone for that matter, but Hannibal Lecter was different. He couldn't be labeled, which was something Will was familiar with. Lecters complexity fed his interest the way it might feed someone else's fears.

Will was startled from his thoughs when a car behind his own honked to remind him it was time to move forward. Every minute now he was getting closer to where Hannibal Lecter was held, and as the sceneries passed by Will wondered why didn't he feel nervous. After all he was going to meet the man described by some as the Devil himself.

He parked his car in front of the building, and ascended the stairs towards the hospital's wooden door. It was open, and he walked to the reception asking for the general admistrator, who turned out to be a beautiful woman dressed in a violet suit, five or so years older than Will. She offered her hand to him.

"You must be Will Graham? I'm Alana Bloom, nice to meet you." Her handshake was firm but not pretentuously so, and Will realised too late his hand was sweaty. It must've felt like a dead fish. He backed up quickly.

"Yes. I'm here to meet doctor Hannibal Lecter, could you show me to him?" Will asked Alana's chin. He hated not knowing where to look, but eyes were always alarming and made him want to squirm, lips made it look like he was flirting and looking souther than neck was considered rude.

"Of course, follow me Mr. Graham," Alana said and started walking. After a minute of silence she opened her mouth again, even though Will would've preferred to stay quiet. "I read your letter to him, and did not miss the admiration between the lines. I feel I'm responsible to remind you of the nature of Hannibal Lecter. He may be very charming, but he's manipulative and smart and will always have the upper hand. Don't try to understand him, just study him. Promise?"

Will didn't exactly like lying, but even more repulsive was the though of explaining his empathy problem to the lady. He agreed, even though he had already been inside Hannibal's head, felt what he had felt when he struck sharp objects into his victim's bodies. He did try to understand Hannibal - his mind tried to emphatize with anyone even against his will.

Alana stopped, and Will almost bumbed into her. She opened the door to let Will in.

Hannibal's cell was nicely decorated and roomy. He had never been to a prison of any kind before, so his picture of them was entirely painted by television series and crime novels - but this was not what he had expected to see. Will focused his attention to the man reading on a bed.

"Dr. Lecter?" he asked, and the man placed his book on a table and stood up. Lecter walked towards Will but stopped right before touching the glass wall, as if it wasn't there. "I'm Will Graham," Will heard himself say. "I wrote you a letter a few months ago asking for an interview."

Something about Hannibal Lecter made Will feel underdressed in his sweater and jeans, even though the man himself was wearing a prison suit.

"And I denied it," Lecter reminded in his thick Lithuanian accent. "But I'm glad you decided to come. One can rarely have a stimulating conversation in a place like this."

"I don't know if I will be very useful for that," Will said and chuckled. "Social situations are not really my field of expertise."

"I figured," Lecter responded, and Will must've looked mildly confused since the man continued his statement. "You refer to your colleagues as acquaintances and your avoidance of looking me in the eyes indicates a fear of social situations."

Even though Hannibal was right - Will was not fond of eye contact - this challenged him to lift his gaze and look Lecter straight into his eyes. He didn't like to be analyzed, even less if the analyst was right.

Wills reaction apparently amused Dr. Lecter, and Will became nervous now that he saw him more clearly. Will had naturally seen photos of him in the newspapers, but they were always the ones supposed to make him look like a killer, as if such a thing existed. In person Lecter looked taller, and his sharp Scandinavian features much more intimidating. His eyes were like a wall of dried blood, they let nothing out but felt to be sucking Will in.

"I didn't know I was the one being interviewed here," Will said.

"Conversation is a form of interaction in which both participants share information about themselves. You tell me about yourself, and I tell you about me," Lecter responded.

Will had never been discreet or patient, so as he saw an opportunity to ask a question, what came out of his mouth was "Why did you kill all those people?"

If Lecter was surprised by Wills bluntness, he didn't show it. Instead he asked "Why does God?".

That was something Will had not expected to hear. He blinked, and asked: "Are you religious Dr. Lecter?"

"No, nor am I not. I find the concept of God amusing. He is the cruelest of us all to the point where fear disguises itself as love and the person whose life has been destroyed seeks help from the one who destroyed it."

"So it's defying God that gets you going," Will stated. He wasn't really surprised by Lecter's God-complex - it wasn't uncommon amongst psychopaths, or whatever Hannibal Lecter was.

"God's existence is insignificant," Lecter continued. "Cruelty touches us all anyway. There are no innocent people, Mr. Graham. Only those capable of admitting their own darkness, and those who are not. Now, do you mind if I call you Will?" Will shook his head in silence. He wanted Lecter to keep talking, as this was getting interesting. Lecter's voice awakened Will from his thoughs. "Tell me Will, have you come to terms with the darkness inside you?"

In the other end of the corridor a heavy door opened and a guard stepped in before Will could think of an answer. "It seems that our time has grown short," Hannibal said as the guard walked towards them. "Shall we continue our conversation next week at the same time?" Will managed to give him a quick nod. "Until then, don't get lost in that darkness of yours, Will."

The guard was now standing next to Will, looking rather impatient.

"Bye Hann..." the other man interrupted his sentence: "Dr. Lecter."

Embarrassed by the situation Will rapidly corrected his mistake. "Dr. Lecter," he said and followed the guard towards the exit.

Will was hoping to get home quickly and be alone with his thoughts. When he saw Dr. Bloom standing by the door Will wondered if it would be possible to sneak past her, but it was too late as she begun to approach him.

"Mr. Graham," Alana said "How was your talk with Dr. Lecter?"

"It was fine," Will answered, not really interested in having a conversation with her.

"Did you get anything out of him?" Alana asked in an almost mocking tone, as if she had expected for Will to fail.

"A lot, actually." Will was starting to lose his patience.

"Even more than he got out of you?"

Before Will could answer the question, Dr. Bloom continued "Something tells me this won't be the last time I'll see you here, Mr Graham. Just try not to get too close, believe me, you wouldn't be the first one."

Will had no energy left for this, all the human interactions had drained him and he just wanted to go home.

"If you excuse me, I have to go feed my dogs," Will muttered and hurried out the door, leaving Alana Bloom standing there with a worried expression.

...

Only when Will was home, sitting in front of his computer with his _Hannibal Lecter_ -file open, did he realise he'd forgotten to take notes. Maybe he should ask permission to record their conversation the next time.

Thinking about meeting the cruelest man he had ever met again should've felt scary - terrifying even, but he was almost excited to hear what Dr. Lecter would have to say.

His colleagues at the follow-up group had asked him to a pub that night, but he'd refused telling them he had a date with the Chesapeake Ripper. It had felt funny at the moment, when Hannibal still wasn't a person but a professional interest - well maybe more than that but he wasn't a walking talking _existing_ creature. Now it was distracting.

_Hannibal Lecter clearly-_

He erased the words and started again.

_The Chesapeake Ripper clearly loves control. Even in a prison full of insane criminals his every hair is strictly in place, the posture is straight and he is reading a novel which he politely puts down when I enter his room._

_Knowing that this man has bare handedly killed people without a single drop of quilt feels absurd. Even the fact that he is here feels wrong in a way, what a wise mind the world loses with locking him behind prison walls -_

Will stopped writing. Definitely not a good start. He was glad Hannibal would never be able to go through his folders, because they would've surely just fueled his God-complex. Maybe he should write about his sharp cheekbones next, wouldn't be any less idiotic.

_Hannibal sees himself as God - or at least places himself into the same level. He tells me it's because of God's cruelty towards the mankind and for a moment I find myself silenced -_

The laptop thud as Will slammed it close. He sounded like a tabloid journalist. He would never become a doctor of psychology if he continued like this.

He made his way into his kitchen, fed his dogs and poured himself a glass of whiskey. That was the best supper that he could think at the moment.


	2. Chapter 2

Bedelia Du Maurier's steps echoed from the walls as she walked down the corridor to meet her patient. She had been Hannibal Lecter's psychiatrist almost as long as Hannibal had been a convicted serial killer. There had been a few others before Bedelia, but none of them had tolerated Hannibal any more than he tolerated them.

However  she didn't blame Hannibal for it, since all of them had gone wrong right from the start by trying to define him. The reason Hannibal let Bedelia stay was because she knew better than to try label him as anything. Still their relationship was strictly professional and Bedelia had given up trying to get inside Hannibal's head a long time ago.

"Hello Hannibal," Bedelia said and sat down on the chair placed opposite the glass wall.

"You are awfully late."

"I had a meeting with a colleague," Bedelia said in an apologetic voice, but there was no apologizing in her eyes. She had learned not to show weakness when it came to Hannibal Lecter.

"Isn't that what we are doing right now?"

"You are not my colleague Hannibal."

"I could have been. I am a very good psychiatrist Bedelia, maybe we would have been friends."

Bedelia knew what Hannibal had done to his friends, and she certainly was happy she wasn't one of them. Still this statement almost made her want to laugh but she covered it well. It was astounding how self-assured Hannibal was, even in a prison suit, locked in for the rest of his life.

"I'm not the only visitor you've had lately,” Bedelia said. "Will Graham was here to see you. It must have been nice talking to someone who understands you so well."

"What makes you think Will understands me?" Hannibal didn't seem surprised, but Bedelia still assumed he was.

"I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Graham when he was still in university. His ability to empathize with killers is remarkable, back then I was almost convinced he was one himself."

"But now you have changed your mind," Hannibal said. It was more of an observation than a question.

"Now I'm almost sure he isn't."

. . .

Will was standing in the lobby of Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, waiting for a guard to take him see Hannibal. He was a little early, and had been told that Dr. Lecter was still with his psychiatrist.

For some reason it surprised Will. He knew it was a general principle but Hannibal didn't really seem like the type to have a shrink - possibly because going to meet him made Will feel similar to when he still had a psychiatrist of his own. The same nervousness, a fear of someone getting inside your head - except back then what Will feared was that she would send him to a nuthouse. With Hannibal, it wasn't someone else's influence he was afraid of -  it was for him to find the parts he had tried to keep concealed.

Will didn't have to wait long before the guard came back. Standing next to him was a weirdly familiar looking blonde woman who Will assumed to be Hannibal's psychiatrist. His suspects were soon confirmed as the woman greeted him.

"I'm Bedelia Du Maurier, Hannibal Lecter's psychiatrist," she said barely moving her lips, and shook his hand. "Nice to meet you again."

"Again?" Will asked.

"You interviewed me for your masters thesis," Bedelia said. "I see you haven't lost your fascination with murderers."

To Will's great relief the guard interrupted their mostly one-sided conversation by asking for Will to come with him.

"Goodbye Dr. Du Maurier," he said and quickly followed the guard without waiting to hear her answer.  As Will walked down the corridor, he had a sudden realization he was more comfortable going to meet a cannibalistic serial killer than making small talk.

 

Hannibal was sitting in front of his desk, drawing a renaissance-styled piece when Will entered the room.

"I read an article about you," he said instead of a greeting. "That you were wearing a person suit all along - literature, dressing style, culinary cooking, classical music. Pencil drawings. That none of it was you - just ways to deceive the people around you."

"And yet here I am, enjoying books and drawing when I could've dropped the act?" Hannibal asked, voicing Will's thoughts. Will nodded. "All of us are wearing a person suit of some sort. Some to fool others, some to fool themselves. I genuinely do enjoy all the things you listed."

"Fine art, fine food, fine murder," Will pressed. Hannibal smiled politely, as if they were still talking about art or music. Or actually they were - the art of violence and murder. Will had to admit that there was certain beauty in the corpses Hannibal had left behind. But he would never say it out loud - people were already side eying him as he walked by. "You were hiding part of yourself, the fact that you are a killer. Doesn't that make you a psychopath?"

"It's not acceptable in this society to be out as a killer. I wasn't suppressing it - contrarily, I am fully aware of who I am and what human nature is, even the sides most shove deep into their unconscious. ' _There is no coming to conscious without pain. People will do anything, no matter how absurd, in order to avoid facing their own soul. One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious_ ," Hannibal quoted.

The purpose of the quoting was probably meant more to test Will than impress him, but that didn't change the fact that for some reason, he wanted to impress Hannibal.

"And you think making the darkness conscious leads to you to commit murders? Jung also said ' _the healthy man does not torture others - generally it is the tortured that turn into torturers_ ," Will said, locking his eyes with Hannibals. It did feel uncomfortable, but he felt less afraid of being misinterpreted under Hannibal's intense gaze than when talking to a stranger in a supermarket.

"Generally, yes. That's just another form of suppressed traumas surfacing in the wrong places without the person's full intention. _I_ am just fully honest with myself," Hannibal said.

"You're saying you're just... interested? curious?"

Hannibal tilted his head.

"Aren't you?"

. . .

Once again their meeting had left Will a little hazy. The feeling of fading away he so often felt had stopped during their conversation, but now it kicked back worse than ever. Walking away from Hannibal's cell Will felt like he had left something on the other side of that heavy wooden door.

That however was a better option than having dragged something out.

There was some satisfaction in feeling less stomped down than after the first time, even though he didn’t know if it was because of himself or because Hannibal let him feel that way. No matter how manipulative he might be, there was something admirable about how in control Hannibal was of a situation in which he presumably wouldn’t have any control.

During their conversations Will often forgot which side of the glass wall he was on. He didn’t admire Hannibal, he didn’t find beauty in how Hannibal viewed the world. But no matter how hard Will tried not to think about it, there was certain rationality. Underneath all complexity of Hannibal Lecter there was a simple ideology; he had placed himself on top of the food chain. 

 _Eat or be eaten,_ Will thought to himself. Hannibal sure had taken it quite literally. He knew locking Hannibal up wouldn’t make him any less dangerous, and so did everyone else. A lion in a cage is still a predator, but Will realized that seeing Hannibal in a prison cell made him feel like some people felt watching wild animals captured in cages; like they didn’t belong there.

A man joined them uninvited, snapping Will out of his mind. The man fit his pace into theirs. Alana gave him a quick look, and sighed.

”This is Dr. Frederick Chilton,” she introduced calmly, but Will didn’t miss the subtle annoyance in her voice.

Dr. Chilton was wearing a brown suit and his hair was neatly combed in place, expect for the few strays of hair that had fallen on his forehead. Will couldn’t help but think how Hannibal's hair looked much neater, even after two years in prison. On his face the man wore a grin you often see on people very sure of themselves - whether it was for a reason or not. Will had come to realize it was usually the latter.

“You must be Will Graham”, Chilton said as he shook Wills hand. “It seems we share an interest in studying psychopaths.”

“Dr. Chilton is writing a book about serial killers. Alana intervened. “In fact he is here to interview a patient of mine, Abel Gideon, who is not one to be precise.”

“He butchered his family on Christmas eve”, Chilton added. “Gideon might not be a serial killer, but he is a psychopath, and we all know how much readers love psychopaths. It has a certain shock-value.” Frederick Chilton clearly loved the sound of his own voice, and before neither Alana nor Will could say anything, he continued his speech.

“But there is a man in this institute whose name has even more shock-value, Hannibal the Cannibal.” Will was quite sure Hannibal hated that name - he probably considered it tasteless. The though almost made him chuckle - almost. "How are your interviews with him going?"

"Not interviews. I‘m simply having conversations with Dr. Lecter."

They had reached the main entrance, and Alana seemed frustrated - Chilton had slowed his steps to a stop, and she must've been in a hurry.

"I assume you two will find a way out from here. I have work to do - and I'm sure so has Will so don't keep him here awfully long, Frederick. Will - see you next week." After that, she was gone with just the determined clatter of her heels lingering behind.

Having been left alone with Chilton Will felt even more uncomfortable. Where Alana was professional and polite, Chilton demanded attention. He took a step closer into Will's personal space, and lowered his voice.

"I know she can be a bit dogmatic, but believe me, my ethics bend way more than hers," he whispered. Will choose to ignore his discomfort, and leaned even closer.

"And why would I," he took a small pause to be even more dramatic, sustaining every word, " _care_?" He leaned back, counting Frederick's face as a win.

“I was just thinking about making a suggestion that could be for our mutual benefit,” Chilton continued, sounding close to desperate. “Let me read your notes on Hannibal Lecter and use them in my book, and I will make sure your study gets the attention it deserves once it’s published. I know the right people, I know which strings to pull."

“Why don’t you speak with him yourself, doctor?“ Will asked, quite sure what the answer would be, but he wanted it said out loud. Chilton's face stiffened for a second with something close to embarrassment.

“Hannibal Lecter has refused to speak with me,” he said. Will looked away.

He smirked. It was obvious Chilton was annoyed having to admit this to him, and Will felt the urge to annoy him even more.

“There's one thing I can tell you about Hannibal Lecter“, he said, feeling smug when he saw Chilton's eyes spark with curiosity. “While studying him and during our meetings I have learned to trust his ability to judge people and their intentions. He may kill out of curiousity but he can spot the rude like a lion spots the wounded gasell. I am not interested in making a deal with you, Dr. Chilton.”

Chilton looked like someone just slapped him, and that wasn’t completely wrong; at least his ego had taken quite a hit.

“Well do let me know if you change your mind, Mr. Graham,“ Chilton said trying to sound as convincing as he could at the moment and save his face.

“I will. Goodbye Dr. Chilton“, Will said leaving him behind on his way out.


	3. Chapter 3

  
  


All of the writing was smudged - Will's notes on Hannibal Lecter were spread all around the floor, some were floating in the air in an invisible tornado. The paper tornado got darker, the letters danced into a form. A stag raised it's head, shaping from the tornado.

Only the eyes were golden - other than that the stag was velvety midnight black. Will couldn't look away, not even when the beast started moving, he was still glued to the door when it pointed it's sharp antlers towards him.

Will's heart was beating hard, or maybe the whole room was pulsing in rhythm with his heart. He wanted to run away, to get closer. He was sweating.

There was grace in the way the stag lifted its claw, and shook its head. Will's gun was nowhere in sight.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he and the stag crouched in synch, as they jumped and clashed together in the air. Will grabbed its antlers, keeping them from impaling him, from making Will its crown of victory. Will didn't want to be a crown, he wanted to be the crowned.

He was shaking with the power it took him to keep the deathly antlers away, on the edge of his stamina. His back was against the wall, it was cold whereas the stag was warm, so warm. He leaned forwards, pressing his forehead against the stag's. It was solid, real.

" _You want it don't you,"_ the stag breathed. " _You're on the edge."_ It echoed in Will's head - what _did_ he want?

The stag moved closer, the tips of the antlers were already on the skin of his throat, ready to cut flesh.

The wall gave out - they fell, dark water was everywhere, filling his lungs. Will couldn't breathe.

He jumped up on his bed, gasping for air. He looked wildly around his room, for any sings of the stag. There were none - it took him few minutes to accept it hadn't been real.

Will ran his hand through his sweaty curls in attempt to calm himself down. Because he wasn't stupid - a beast jumping out of his notes was clearly a way of his unconscious telling him to back down. But he couldn't. Besides, he had everything under control. He could do it.

 _You want it don't you_ , was playing in his brains like a record. Wanted to die? No, definitely not, he was too curious about the world to want to die. Wanted to fall, into darkness? Or was it sexual?

He shook his head trying to make the dream disappear, and picked up his phone from his bedside table. He had messages - apparently his friends still remembered his existence.

Meeting at caffe Latte'da at four today? - Beverly

Will weighted the options for a minute –he was not eager to accept the invitation. Will knew he'd already denied one too many times, so he decided it would probably be best to just get it over with. Maybe it would actually be nice to meet his friends once in a while. He stood up to get dressed.

  
  


Will slammed the car door shut and walked to the door of Latte'da where he had agreed to meet some the people from his follow-up group. He stepped into the warmth of the cafe and looked around. The place was designed in a way that was supposed to make it look comfortable, but warm colors and dim lighting couldn’t change the fact that the multitude certainly didn’t put Will at ease. He made his way to the counter and ordered a cup of coffee. From there Will spotted a familiar looking group of three sitting on a table right in the middle of the room, laughing at something. _Of course they had chosen that table_ , Will thought and with the coffee in his hands begun moving closer.

The one who first noticed him was Beverly Katz, a woman who in all her straightforwardness -or maybe because of it - was one of the few people in their group Will actually liked. She greeted him, and moved to make space for Will. Opposite to her sat Brian Zeller and Jimmy Price, still laughing, but as Will sat down they both acknowledged his presence.

“Well, look who finally decided to join us,” Price said squinting his eyes in his own amused way. Zeller was quick to join in, his tone sounding almost bitter:

“Yeah Graham, we haven’t been seeing much of you lately.”

“Sorry I’ve been busy… working,” Will said and took a sip of his coffee, it bringing a good distraction from the conversation

“It’s okay. Good to see you Will.” Beverly placed her hand on his shoulder and Will flinched a little, but managed to smile at her before she continued. “We were just talking about how Brian here has not even started writing his thesis yet.”

“C’mon, I’ve been doing a lot of research,” Zeller said and spread his hands to emphasize his words. Will turned to him looking a little amused.

“Isn’t your topic BDSM sex?” he asked, making all three of them laugh, and even Will chuckled a bit. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all, at least he had some normality in his life. Zeller’s words woke him from his thoughts.

“You don’t know what I do in my free time,” he declaimed. To this Jimmy Price quickly added;

“I do!”

Zeller gave him an amused smile and winked. Jimmy’s comment was probably meant to be a joke, but Will felt like there might be more truth to it than what was said out loud. He actually started to feel quite relaxed, but that didn’t last long.

“But enough of me,” Zeller said, “How is it going with Hannibal the Cannibal?” Will had hoped the topic of Hannibal wouldn’t come up, but realized all three were way too curious to let it slide.

“We’re just having conversations.” Will desperately browsed the room for something to look at, and chose a window on the other side of the cafe. “It’s… interesting.”

“What’s he like?” Beverly asked and Will forced himself to look at her. In Beverly’s eyes there was the same look she always had when something really interested her.

“He’s intelligent,” Will said turning to look at the window again. “And extremely polite.”

“Polite?” Zeller asked laughing. “You mean when he isn’t murdering people and eating them?” Will was getting annoyed. For a psychology student Zeller certainly had a very narrow world view.

“It’s not like that,” he said. “I know what you’re thinking, but he’s not insane. In fact Hannibal is probably more honest with himself than any of us.”

These people didn’t view Hannibal as a person. To them he was nothing more than an interesting case or a headline on a newspaper, exactly what he used to be to Will too. Well, not exactly. Dr. Hannibal Lecter had always seemed more interesting to him than the others - whether it was for his unusually aesthetic murder scenes or his polite, yet sarcastic behavior in the court. He wasn't like other criminals, he had never been.

“There’s no need to lose your calm Will. We were just joking, not trying to deprecate your work,” Jimmy Price said. Will knew he hated conflict.

“Yeah I’d be a little uptight too if I was writing about a murderous cannibal”, Zeller said and Beverly gave him a look telling him to shut up.

"But Will hasn't been the only one who's had meetings lately - Beverly, how was the orphanage you visited? You discussed with the children from abusive homes, right?" Jimmy asked, and Will silently thanked him in his mind. The attention was finally off him.

"It was terrible, actually. So sad. Some of the children were so brave but there was this one boy who didn't say a word, not even when I offered him chocolate or tried to be very gentle. The nurses told me he hasn't talked since he saw his dad beat his mum to hospital a year ago," Beverly answered, shaking her head.

"Poor children. No one should have to experience things like that," Jimmy said, serious for once. The conversation went on, and Will could almost say it was nice, even though he got into an argument with Brian if it was sick or not to get off from biting - actual biting, that drew a lot of blood and left scars.

"I understand scratches and spanking and whatever but I saw the pictures, it was purely disgusting," Brian said, scrunching up his face. "The wounds can get infected." Will shrugged.

"It's a decision between two people - or three, four, I dont care," Will replied. "If all parties enjoy it it's not your job to send them to a nuthouse."

"Bet you'd like to try that with your cannibal", he mumbled. It was meant to be a joke, offense maybe, but Will felt a strange wave of uncomfortableness. As if they knew something, or suspected. Not, of course, that he wanted Dr. Lecter to eat him alive with bare teeth, but that there was something else than professional interest. But there was nothing he couldn't control.

“Well I have to leave now,” Will said and stood up. “I need to walk my dogs before shower - before working on my thesis," he corrected. It didn't save him.

"You consider shower more interesting company than us?" Beverly asked, laughing. Now he would have to tell the truth.

"I have a meeting at seven. With Hannibal Lecter." He flashed them a tight grin before grabbing his coat and leaving, not wanting to hear any comments. Brian wolf whistled. Beverly and Jimmy said goodbye.

Sitting in his car again, Will leaned his head on the wheel and tried to clear his mind. Why had he gotten so angry with them? Against all rationality, what made Will angry was not feeling like they deprecated his work, but hearing them speak about Hannibal in such a degrading way. He had taken the jokes about Hannibal personally, like they were making fun of him too. At that moment Will finally understood the feeling that had started building up when he first met Hannibal three months ago, and just grew bigger and bigger over time. The same way as someone making fun of Hannibal felt like making fun of Will as well, Hannibal being in prison made Will feel like there was a part of him locked away too. Still He had no idea what he would do if Hannibal got away, Will didn’t even know if he’d ever see him again. It was a foolish, irrational thought that he just couldn’t get out of his mind.

...

Will ripped open the buttons of his gray shirt, and threw it on his bed. All of his clothes were too big on him and made him look homeless. He searched through his closet until he found a purple button up that fit tightly and wasn't bagging from the elbows.

His hair was fluffy and curly and he had tried to comb it in place but he still thought he looked like a schoolboy, not someone who was going to meet a serial killer. Even though Brian's voice was nagging in his head, he wasn't trying to look good, he was trying to be taken seriously.

He added a black tie with his shirt, threw on his coat and locked the door. He had to pull his scarf over his head in the cold autumn rain as he went to his car. The road was foggy and by the time he arrived the depressed looking building he was irritated by everything. He didn't see the point in making small talk with the receptionist, and could hardly remain polite to the guards.

When he finally got in the room with Hannibal, he was pretty much relieved. The other man's cell looked almost comfortable, Hannibal's hair was dry and so was the book he was reading. Will set his coat down on the chair that was always brought there for him, even though he never sat on it. For some reason it would feel unfit for the situation.

"The weather is horrendous," Will said. "Do they ever let you out of here?"

"Whenever they please –in a straightjacket" Hannibal said, cocking his head. "You look distressed Will. What is it?"

"You are not my therapist," Will said.

"I keep hearing that," Hannibal said with a smile tucking on his lips. "You did something you don't enjoy."

"Tried to socialize," Will said, for some strange reason starting to loosen up. "I had forgotten how people are. Aren't I pathetic?"

"I know how you feel," Hannibal said. "That is why I try to eat the rude."

Hannibal's face was amused, he didn't look nuts or cruel. Will knew he should've recoiled, felt something, but Hannibal looked like he wanted to let him in, not scare him. "Not past tense," he said.

"I'm on a break as you can see," Hannibal said and walked closer to the glass. Will had to force his feet to stay where he was. He felt hypnotized.

"Are you trying to scare me?"

"Are you afraid?" Hannibal asked.

"I don't know," Will said.

“When everything in your life becomes unstable it is hard not to be washed away by the waves of darkness surging over you.” Hannibal’s eyes were studying Will who stared right back. Looking him in the eyes had become easier for Will, Even though Hannibal might be an exception –His eyes didn’t really reveal anything to get distracted by. Will rested his hand on the back of the chair, possibly to hold himself back.

“The only time I don’t feel suffocated by it is when I’m alone with my thoughts," Will answered. "I imagine a river, close my eyes and let the stream take me.” Will straightened his back and looked up to Hannibal, who took another step closer and deepened his gaze, capturing Will’s eyes with his own.

“It can be satisfying to lose control.”

A sudden urge to press his hand on the glass separating them washed over Will, but he shrug it off and pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans to prevent himself from giving in to the enticement.

“It’s not so much about losing control”, Will said. “There’s nothing but emptiness.”

It was like Hannibal somehow recognized the unspoken feeling circling Will’s mind, because now the man approached him again, closing any gap still left between him and the glass wall.

“Emptiness can be a good thing, in a peaceful environment we get a clearer look at the people close to us.” Hannibal’s lips were moving on a slow pace, and the words coming out sounded conceited which his expression only endorsed.

Now it was Will who stepped towards Hannibal, tilted his head a little and asked;

“Is this a peaceful environment?”

Will’s voice sounded a lot  more breathy than he had intended, and suddenly he was very aware of how close to each other they were standing and backed up a little. This seemed to amuse Hannibal, and with something you could call a smile on his lips he answered;

“It is possible to find peace from any place if one knows where to look. More often than not we find it in other people.”

“But emptiness isn’t always peaceful.” Will fixed his gaze on the drawings attached to the wall of Hannibal’s cell. He wanted to see them more closely, but felt like asking in middle of a conversation would be rude.

“Neither is peace always good. But all of them are means through which people try to understand themselves, gain control over their minds.” Hannibal paused for a moment before continuing to make sure he still had Will’s full attention. “As Nietzsche said, no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself. When you wade into the emptiness, Will, do you feel like you own yourself?”

_It is a little hard to own yourself when your mind is constantly trying to be someone else,_ Will thought, but not wanting to sound too arrogant he decided to voice his thoughts differently.

“I’m not sure if I know how I feel. I’m not even sure if it’s peace or just absence of everything, like I’m floating in space.” Will shook off the feeling of being exposed, and before he could ponder if he was revealing too much.

“Space flights are merely an escape, a fleeing away from oneself, because it’s easier to go to Mars or the moon than to penetrate one’s own being,” Hannibal continued.

“But it’s an escape of some sort”, Will said giving Hannibal a meaningful look. “Are you still reluctant about letting me interview you?” The other man tilted his head back a little before a smile slowly spread over his lips.

“I might be willing to consider it.”


	4. Chapter 4

Buster started barking seconds before Will could hear the sound of tires against the dirt road. He couldn't recognise the light blue car, so he watched with his brows burrowed as a blonde woman stepped out of the vechile. Dr. Bedelia du Maurier looked out of place in Will's frontyard with her neatly organized curls and navy blue designer coat.

The doorbell rang and Will took his time walking to the door and opening it.

"Afternoon, Mr. Graham," Bedelia said, offering her gloved hand.

"We meet again," he said. "Why is that?"

She was clearly waiting for an invitation to come in but Will said nothing, just stood there blocking the way inside.

"Hannibal has agreed to a private interview with you," she said, leaning closer and studying Will's expression shamelessly. "On the field of science you have nothing to offer him. He on the other hand could be a springboard for your promising career."

"So could a companionship with Dr. Chilton, he has made it very clear," Will said, aiming to sound nonchalant.

"But Dr. Chilton-" Bedelia was now leaning even closer "-isn't as intriguing as Dr. Lecter. Or nearly as charming."

h"I'm sure you know him better than I. You're a great psychiatrist I remember," Will said.

"When you work with people like Hannibal Lecter you have to be in order to avoid unwanted influence. You have to be able to shut down your empathy." She cocked her head like a curious bird, something beautiful and fragile that you fed with breadcrumbs until you stopped, and it tore off your skin with it's hidden nails and beak.

"Any success?" Will asked coldly.

"My work isn't any of your concern Mr. Graham. My patient's sudden change of heart on the other hand is mine," Bedelia said.

"I may-" Will started, still weighting what to say. "-have given him the idea that I understand him."

"I believe in order to do that you'd have to, at least on a theoretical level, understand him."

"Your job is to understand him," Will hit back. His palms were sweating and he wasn't sure if it was caused by annoyance or fear. Probably a mixture of both.

"I understand he believes he understands you," Bedelia said. Will tried to close the door a few inches, to give her the impression he was done with the conversation.

"Did you know that an imprisoned serial killer gets the same amont of love letters than an average celebrity. Under right circumstances murder can excite ordinary people - imagine what would happen to extraordinary people under the right circumstances."

"I am quite educated on the subject, thank you Dr. Du Maurier," Will said, streching out every word.

"All heroes are broken," Bedelia said. "Villains are the heroes who chose truth over dare."

"Heroes and villains don't exist outside fairytales, but it's interesting to hear your point of view. In real world there are just coincidences and people with selfish motives." He narrowed his eyes. "Did you find what you were looking for."

"I wasn't looking for anything," Bedelia said. "I came to tell you that I may not be working as Hannibal's psychiatrist in the near future."

"In need of a holiday?" Will asked.

"Among other things, yes. Goodbye Mr. Graham, I wish you all the luck in the future," she said, and walked back to her car. Will closed the door, not looking out before her car was gone.

...

Will squeezed the door handle leding to the room where their interview was suppoused to happen. He focused on the feeling of cold metal and tried to gather his thoughts. This much needed break was cut short as a hand was placed on his shoulder, making Will flinch away from the sudden touch.

Frederick Chilton’s artificial smile greeted him as he turned around. Behind the forced smile Chilton looked strangely disappointed, which Will put down to professional jealousy.

“Good morning,” Chilton started the conversation after an awkwardly long silence. “Nice to meet you again Mr. Graham.”

“Hello Dr. Chilton. Are you here to interview Abel Gideon again?” Will asked, even though he didn’t really care to hear the answer. Chilton seemed to light up from the mention of his work, or himself in general.

“Yes, I am,” he said. “But my book will soon be finished, and then I’ll have time for other projects. Perhaps even another book if I come across an interesting subject.”

Will had only heard half of what Chilton was saying, but he didn’t miss what the man hinted. Chilton was desperate to get his part of the publicity Hannibal’s case had gotten, and it seemed Will was his only change to gain inside knowledge of the situation. Will ignored his insinuations, but couldn’t resist teasing him a little.

“It would be nice to hear more about your upcoming projects, but I must go now. I have a private interview with Hannibal Lecter.”

Will tried to hide his amusement caused by Chilton’s annoyed expression. Of course he knew about the interview, but rubbing it on his face gave Will great satisfaction. Chilton forced a smile back on his face.

“You are the first person he has agreed to talk in private with. Seems like the cannibal has a soft spot for you.”

Will didn’t bother saying anything. Chilton’s bitterness shone through his words and Will was no more interested in what he had to say. He began to turn around, but once again Chilton’s hand stopped him.

“Good luck Mr. Graham,” he said giving Will a light pad on his shoulder. Will gave him a disinterested smile and started to leave again, but Chilton didn’t let go. Instead he moved his hand to Will’s collar, straightening it while Will stood there uncomfortably. Finally Chilton released Will, who turned around to open the door, entering through it quickly as to avoid any further interruptions.

  
  


Hannibal had already been brought to the room earlier, and was sitting behind the table with his hands chained to it. Unable to stand up he acknowledged Will’s presence with a slight smile which Will  returned. Even though Hannibal’s expression was as calm as always, Will could sense his annoyance with being put to such position. For someone who is always in control being chained to a table must have felt very out of place. Will banished the thought from his mind and sat down on the other chair.

“It feels quieter in here,” Will said. “I can finally hear my thoughts now that they aren’t buried under the knowledge that someone is hearing everything we say.”

“Privacy is a privilege we often overlook until it’s taken from us, it is a requirement for truly seeing someone.”

Hannibal’s voice sounded clearer now that they were in the same room together, each word and emphasis took new meaning in Will’s ears. He trailed his eyes across the cold steel table between them and stopped to look at Hannibal’s shadow reflected from the surface.

“Then this is the first time we really see each other”, Will said moving his gaze past Hannibal’s chained hands to his face.

“We see best when our vision is blurred by neither regret nor hope.”

For the next few seconds following Hannibal’s words both men were silent, only seeing each other while their environments blurred together. At that moment the only thing existing was what they read from each other’s faces. Finally Will broke the silence.

“Aren’t you hoping to get out of here?”

He kept his eyes locked with Hannibal’s, and the other man didn’t turn away, his lips were moving but his gaze remained unwavered.

“I don’t need to hope.”

Hannibal’s words were accompanied with a slight smile, so subtle it was barely visible, but Will could easily see the meaning behind it. He felt his own lips twitch as he finally looked away, targeting his following words to a small blocked window.

“Not everyone is meant to be condemned to a prison cell.”

For a while the only sound was the faint clinking of Hannibal’s handcuffs as he moved his hands forward on the table, like bells escorting them to either ruin or a new life. Neither of them said a word, but both knew exactly what they were talking about.

“Certainly not”, Hannibal said leaning slightly more towards Will.

There was a strange gleam in his eyes Will couldn’t attach to any emotion in particular. Little did he know his own eyes were reflecting the same look. Adrenaline rushed through Will’s veins and he felt his heartbeat quicken. Speaking the words that before had passed soundless between them made the situation feel a lot more real.

“What do you think they’ll do afterward?” Will said feeling uneasy as all the possibilities occupied his mind.

“After what?” Hannibal’s words were conflicted by the look in his eyes. He knew exactly what Will meant, but Hannibal wanted to hear him say what they had avoided saying for so long.

“After we are gone,” Will whispered. Saying those words aloud almost made Will panic as he finally understood the seriousnss of the situation, but he was able to control himself and continued.

”But we need to be careful,” Will said. ”Our relationship is already quite the topic of conversation out there. Even Chilton gave me a pad on the shoulder before I came in. ”

“You seem to have also given it some thought,” Hannibal said and Will looked at him questioningly. Hannibal’s grin widened slightly.

“This is the first time I see you wearing a tie.” Hannibal looked amused by Will’s reaction to this observation: he was nervously exclaiming his tie as if just realizing he was wearing one. For some reason Will felt embarrassed, and to avoid looking at Hannibal he started straightening his collar. Will’s actions were interrupted when Hannibal brushed his hand off and bent the collar while looking at him intensively. After getting over his astonishment Will understood what Hannibal was trying to show him: a small microphone attached inside his shirt. It didn’t take Will long to realize who had put it there and why. He hoped Hannibal had understood too, and didn’t suspect a betrayal.

”This outfit feels strange, ” he said. ”As if someone else put it on me.”

Hannibal pulled his hand off but let the tips of his fingers brush Will’s neck, making his pulse quicken. Will tried to keep his expression calm, but guessed Hannibal noticed the change.

”You do look uncomfortable,” Hannibal said. ”You almost remind me of Chilton the last time I spoke to him.”

Will wondered what he was suppoused to answer to that. It was obviously meant for the man listening to them but with Hannibal he could never be sure.

”What were you talking about?” Will asked.

”I complimented his tongue,” Hannibal said. ”It’s probably very thick and tasty for all the exercise it has gotten.”

Will couldn’t figure out what to say, so he just stayed silent and hoped Chilton wouldn’t notice the sudden change of tone in their conversation.

…

"He touched you," Alana said after Hannibal had been taken away. It was not a question but she seemed to be expecting an answer.

"I noticed," Will said, his mind still elsewhere.

"He doesn't just go around touching anyone. I knew him."

"Maybe he wanted something from me," Will said, trying to keep his pace slow for once. He wanted to find Chilton.

"I'm not sure if I should let you continue your conversations with Dr. Lecter," Alana said. "You seem to be inable to keep things professional."

Will stopped in the lobby, offering a polite smile to Alana and watching her eyes for a moment. "I have studied Dr. Lecter for a long time, Dr. Bloom. I know how to be to make him talk. I have to jump into the role and play him like an instrument. He's not as complicated as people think."

Finally, Alana seemed a little reassured. "I fear you won't be able to jump out of the role when you need to."

"I've been jumping between roles all my life, Dr. Bloom," Will said. "That won't be an issue but I'm flattered by your worry. "

She seemed to always be in a hurry, which saved Will yet again. He stepped outside where he found Chilton approaching him.

"Mr. Graham!" he said. "I was just looking for you."

"Then this must be a great coincidence," Will said wryly.

"Not really," Chilton said. "Walk with me." Will followed him to his car, where Chilton leaned the driver's door. He gestured Will to come closer until he could reach his collar, and pulled off the tiny microphone. "I heard your conversation."

Now he was supposed to look angry, scared, surprised. Will stepped away, not liking having the other man in his personal space. He blinked rapidly, bit his lip and stopped. "What do you plan on doing now?"

"I met Hannibal a few times when he was still throwing his dinner parties, but we did not get along so famously," Chilton said, making Will frustrated. He could just go straight to the point. "After the FBI caught him, they went through his stuff. Did you know he had a roll of recipes next to a roll of business cards?" Will nodded. " _My_ card was among those. Hannibal Lecter deserved the electric chair but they gave him a private cell with full comforts. There are many things wrong with him but his brain functions just fine."

"You are afraid of me," Will said.

"I fear you as much as a knife Hannibal holds in his hand, Graham," Chilton said. Will knew what he meant, and didn't like it. Knives never killed, and Will was not a weapon. Will had his own. But it was best for Chilton to imagine otherwise.

"If I just walked away what would happen?" Will asked.

"I don't know what made you think he wouldn't kill you," Chilton said. "Do you believe you have such a strong bond because of your empathy - I know about that, I spent the last week studying everything about you that might come in handy - or do you believe you can outsmart and manipulate the man who served people to the FBI for years?"

"Yes," Will answered. "Hannibal Lecter is a psychopath, but he never killed children, he doesn't get sexual pleasure out of it. He is a sadist I'm sure, but a well controlled sadist stays well controlled as long as he thinks others play for his team."

"He did not make that reference to me as a joke. He's going to kill you Will."

"Why would you think so?" Will asked, genuenly interested. He'd been turning the threat over and over in his head, trying to look at it from all angles. If he betrayed Hannibal he'd soon be bacon, that he was sure of, but if he had the killer under the impression they were friends he would have more use for him alive. Will's head felt disconnected from lying to everyone.

"That’s what he does, haven’t you noticed? Chilton said. ”The moment you quit being useful is the moment you quit being human and turn into dinner.”

"He needs me," Will said.

"To escape, yes. But after that - to experiment on, to fuck?

"I-" Will shut his mouth before he would say something too clever or sarcastic. "It’s not like that.”

Chilton shrugged. "Just makes you less useful. Hannibal let you have your interviews or conversations, whatever you like to call them, because he believes you will be easily manipulated and not widely missed. If you back up now he'll consider you rude. And when - it's just a matter of time - he gets out your liver will end up in his dinner table next to my ribs."

Will guessed Chilton had picked the body parts by random, but he wanted to correct him. At this point his betrayal to Hannibal would be personal, even after relatively short time. It wouldn't be his liver Hannibal ate, he would make something of his heart or brains. Chilton had probably been right about the ribs though - he was just a pig.

Will tried to look conflicted which wasn't hard because he knew Chilton’s words had been true. "What do you want me to do?"

Chilton smiled and reached to pat his shoulder, letting his hand linger for a moment too long. Will imagined him saying ' _good boy'_ and handing him a bone. He shook those thoughts off, wishing he could do that to Chilton's hand.

"He worked hard to get here," Chilton said. "He's a serial killer who plead insane, he's on close watch. One escape attempt might get them to reconsider his conviction. We would never have to worry about our organs again."

The thought of Hannibal being killed so clinically made Will feel uncomfortable. The other man could die, he deserved it after all, but he should go down fighting. Not fast and behind closed doors.

"If his trial gets picked up again, Hannibal the Cannibal is back on everybody's lips. That would be a great time for someone to publish their study about him," Chilton said, and Will couldn't say he wasn't tempted. Chilton had painted it out to be not just the only solution, but the best one too.

"Do you have a plan?" Will asked. Chilton glanced at his watch.

"I have an appointment with Abel Gideon in ten minutes," he said. "Give your phone number and we'll talk later today."

Will gave the number and they parted ways. He sat down in his car but couldn't start it because his hands were shaking. He let them fall.

Cold sweat was dripping down his neck and his pulse was uncontrollably fast. He knew he could go with Chilton's plan, he already had a lot of material, the knowledge he'd get in private wouldn't be necessary. But thinking about his and Hannibal's plan made his veins pulse with adrenaline, but Hannibal's lifeless body carried away from the electric chair felt like a sacrilege.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're really sorry this chapter took so long, but we've both been busy with school. Hope the lenght of the chapter makes up for that!

Will pulled his car to stop and wondered whether this was his last time parking in front of the Baltimore State Hospital. An hour ago he'd been nervous, on the verge of panic as he was sweating and shaking, but a strange sense of calm had taken over him.

Alana wasn't there to welcome him, which he was glad of. He didn't know the woman very well, but he didn't want to put her under risk. She deserved to be as happy as she could living in the middle of all this.

Visiting hours were over, so he asked to meet Chilton as they had planned. The secretary checked from Chilton that he was actually expecting him, then called a guard to escort him to the door of Chilton's office. The guard waited until he knocked and Chilton opened the door, and then he left them alone.

Chilton was sitting with his feet on his desk and nervously flicking through a book without reading a word.

"You have what we talked about?" Will asked. "And do you know how to edit the security tape?"

Chilton nodded. "Weren't that hard to steal, Alana keeps the key to Hannibal's cell at home so I just had to drop by to say hello to her wife," he said.

"She'll know you took them," Will pointed out, inspecting the decorations of Chilton's room. He had a modern painting on the wall, and a bookcase filled with books that Hannibal wouldn't touch even with a clove. Or while wearing his murder suit. The thought made Will feel a little manic.

"She won't mind when he's dead," Chilton said. "She has even more reasons to hate him than we do, she'll just be sorry she didn't give the final blow."

"Possibly," Will said, and accepted the key cards Chilton offered him. They were all quite similar rather innocent looking plastic squares, and seemed like they should open a hotel door, not one that would set a serial killer free. Will felt a wave of unsureness, but it passed quickly.

He glanzed at Chilton one more time before leaving. The man looked back at him with a pensive look on his face, possibly weighing the changes of Will getting out of this alive and free. In Chilton's version of the plan they weren't very high.

He closed the door, hoping he could come up with some sort of alibi when he came back - in the worst case he could say Hannibal or Chilton was manipulating or threatening him. He knew he didn't look like a killer, and that with a face like his he could easily get the public on his side. Especially if he posed with his dogs. For some reason people were less likely to see you as a criminal if you had pets.

Will got in the guards dressing room, and pulled an uniform on top of his clothes. The hat conveniently covered his face when placed right.

No one stopped him on his way towards Hannibal's room. He couldn't call it his cell anymore, not when the other man owned it so thoroughly. It could've been called a cage, though. And some beasts weren't meant to be caged.

Still, when he saw the two guards responsible of watching Hannibal's door, he hid behind a corner. He was supposed to sneak in, set Hannibal free, and escape hoping that the guards would be forced to kill him. It was a stupid plan, and he expected Chilton hoped Hannibal would attack him, and while they were fighting the guards would come. As if Hannibal was just a savage creature of nature, incapable of seeing through such an imbecile plan. Chilton would leave the building any minute now, expecting to have his safety guaranteed for the rest of his life.

The guards hadn't noticed him yet, so he had the benefit of surprise on his side. When the other was passing his corner, he grabbed him by the back of his collar and hit him with the butt of his gun. The man had been sleepy, not prepared for an attack and fell unconscious immediately. His partner braced up immediately after hearing the thud, and came running with his gun pointed forwards.

Will threw himself to the ground when the gun went off, and quickly crawled to Hannibal's door. He shot at the direction of the guard to distract him, thrust the key card towards the reading machine and slammed the door shut behind him. It wouldn't keep him out long, but hopefully long enough so he could free Hannibal. He wasn't sure when his life had come to this point.

"Evening, Will," he heard Hannibal's steady and mildly amused voice say, which made him stop in his tracks. "I wasn't expecting you back before next week."

"Couldn't wait to see you," Will grumbled, and took the last steps so he could access the monitor. He put the last key card in and typed in the password, anxiously hoping he remembered it right.

He wasn't sure what he'd expected to feel when the glass between him and Hannibal started lifting, but it was not the mixture of fear, longing and freedom that actually struck him. He stepped away, finally taking a good look at Hannibal. The man's expression hadn't changed, but his posture was rigid. The sirens started ringing around them, and the guard finally broke the door and barged in. He froze, just for a second, when he saw the glass rising away, and possibly the most dangerous predator looking at him unrestrained.

The corners of Hannibal's mouth turned up, and the guard tried to shoot him but missed by a few inches. Hannibal strode forward, grabbed the chair that Will never sat on, and hit the guard with it so his gun fell off. He successfully aimed a kick to Hannibal's side, but Hannibal didn't even flinch. He wrapped his fingers around the guard's chin and snapped his neck broken. He fell to the ground like a marionette.

Red lights were flashing on the hallway in synch with the siren, and Hannibal looked like Satan himself with it lighting up his face.

"Aren't you going to follow?" he asked, and turned without checking if Will did. They reached the hall without trouble, but Will realized he didn't trust Chilton with his alibi and excused himself away before Hannibal could complain, leaving him to take care of the remaining guards.

He ran up the stairs managing to avoid crashing into anyone, and luckily his key card worked on the control room's door.  
Luckily it didn't take him long to locate the disc. He pulled it from the computer, and and ran back to the hall.

There were several guards lying on the floor, and Will couldn't bring himself to check whether they were dead or alive. Hannibal had his back to him, and he heard a horribly familiar voice screaming.

Will walked towards them as slowly as he could, and Chilton, who was laying on the floor with his stomach cut open noticed him before Hannibal did. Will's fingers tightened around his gun.

"Will! Help me!" he screamed, and Will wanted to press his hands to his ears and eyes and pinch his nose so he couldn't smell the blood. He stared into Chilton's eyes while Hannibal cut his throat open, saw life rapidly dimming behind them.

He turned away and shot the glass door several times. They shattered open despite the lockdown.

When he got out of the building he kept walking until he was a few dozen meters away from the hospital, then stood there staring into the night until he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was covered in blood and he wanted to flinch away or lean back and let himself be embraced, steadied, but he did neither. He turned around and studied Hannibal.

"We're taking Chilton's car," Hannibal informed a little too cheerily. Will nodded. He didn't ask why the pavement had a trail on blood leading to the car, he just climbed in and pressed his forehead against the cold glass window. The car shook and started, but he didn't open his eyes.

...

Will's headache had been getting gradually worse as they drove towards a destination still unknown to him. The road kept rising higher and higher, and watching the turns and rises did not make Will feel any better, so he decided to close his eyes, just for a moment. Even though his thoughts were dimmed by pain and exhaustion, he did understand it was probably not the best idea to fall asleep next to a serial killer. Not even if you were the one who helped him escape, maybe especially then. Despite this Will could feel himself drifting, all the noises blurred together, Hannibal’s breathing became deeper and louder as it absorbed the noise of the car tires against the gravel road, and Will finally gave in, let the waves flood over him as he fell asleep.

“Will.”

A familiar voice was calling for him, but not wanting to wake up Will kept his eyes closed and pretended not to hear anything.

“Will, we have arrived.” Hannibal’s voice was louder this time, and it came from a significantly smaller distance. Will opened his eyes and saw the other man leaning towards him, a faint smile spreading over his lips as he watched Will regain consciousness. 

“You were asleep for the whole drive,” Hannibal said. “I imagine you are exhausted after everything that has happened.” His voice sounded almost affectionate, and Will couldn’t help staring at Hannibal for a moment, like he was trying to catch some secret meaning behind the words.

“I’m fine, I just have a headache,” Will said and reached his hand to open the car door. Gripping the handle he added: “Do you mind if I sleep a little longer?”

“Of course not. You can have the bedroom upstairs.” Hannibal looked like he was contemplating whether to say something else, and with an ambiguous grin on his face he added: “I need to cook us dinner anyway”. Will suddenly became very aware of the bodies they had left behind, and what they had taken with them. Maybe he needed the sleep even more than he had imagined.

The house was located on a cliff, so close to the edge it looked like it could sink into the ocean at any given moment. Windows covered the whole facade, giving it a strikingly modern look together with the sharp edges. It didn’t really seem fitting for Hannibal, whom Will had always associated with a style closer to renaissance than the modern day.

“Do you come here often?” Will asked and immediately realized it sounded like a lame pick up line. “Or did you use to?” he tried to correct himself. 

Hannibal stared silently at the house for a moment, like he was trying to gather up the memories it held within its walls.

“Not really,” he finally said. “But it is an agreeable place for hiding. No one knows that I own it, not even the police.”

Will hummed a response and followed Hannibal to the front door. He watched as Hannibal lifted one of the small stones arranged around the house and took a key from under it. Will tried to come to a conclusion on how he felt about the situation. Thinking rationally he knew that, at least on some level, he regretted his actions. He was after all risking his whole career, maybe even his life. And for what? An interesting topic for his doctoral thesis? Even Will had to admit it sounded absurd. Still he didn’t _feel_ any regret. Maybe he was in shock, or just overall reckless, out of control. Or maybe it was something else.

Hannibal opened the door and stood aside to let Will in. He looked around the room, but was too tired to thoroughly examine it. He turned to look at Hannibal who was closing the door behind them.

“Could you take me to the bedroom?” Will realized too late how his words sounded, and almost blushed with embarrassment. He half expected Hannibal to say something along the lines “well aren’t you proceeding quickly”, but he didn’t. Instead he placed a hand on Will’s back and gently guided him up the stairs and towards a door on his right.

“The bed should be set already,” Hannibal said. "Don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything else." Will settled for just nodding an answer, but then realized Hannibal might find that rude and continued his sentence by saying “thank you, it’s fine”.

Hannibal begun to leave, but lingered at the door for a moment.

“I hope you sleep well, Will.”

Will nodded and smiled awkwardly, and Hannibal’s lips curled up a little too before he turned around, switched off the lights and left the room.

…

When Will woke up he was as sweaty as if he'd been having a nightmare, even though he couldn’t remember anything of that sort. He sat up on his bed, took off his shirt and pressed his face onto his hands. Usually he felt relieved after waking up from a bad dream, but now he wasn’t sure if he was actually awake. Even more confusing was that he didn’t know if he wanted to be.

Will needed to clean himself up, but didn’t want to face Hannibal looking like a sweaty mess, so he prayed there was a shower in his room. The first door he tried proved to be a closet, but luckily behind the second one there was a bathroom with a blindingly white interior. Will stripped off the rest of his clothes, turned the shower on and leaned against the wall trying to assemble his thoughts.

After getting out of the shower Will realized he had no clothes to put on. The ones he had been wearing were tossed on the floor, and putting them back on felt even more unpleasant than grabbing a towel and asking Hannibal for something to wear.

Hannibal had his back to Will, but he immediately noticed his presence in the room, stopped what he was doing and turned around.

“Hello Will, I hope you slept well,” he said. If he was surprised by Will’s clothing, or the lack of it, he didn’t show it. Will still felt like Hannibal had looked at him a little longer than usually before saying anything, but that might have been due to his imagination.

“I did, at least given the situation we’re in,” Will said and gave a faint attempt of a smile. “I took a shower, but all my clothes are sweaty and I have nothing to wear. Would you have anything here for me to borrow?”

“Of course.” Hannibal placed a towel he’d been holding on the counter. “Forgive me for not thinking of that earlier. Follow me.”

Hannibal led Will into another room, opened a big wooden closet and took out a pair of black trousers and a white dress shirt. He moved closer and handed them to Will, but instead of backing out afterward he stepped even closer, closing any space there was between them.

“What we have here is a unique opportunity.” Hannibal’s soft accent sounded even more prominent than usually. For a moment Will was left pondering what that unique opportunity might be, but then Hannibal continued. “One can rarely live without the interference of other people, the opinions and moral principles they have shape the lives of everyone around them. We might be running away from the whole police force, but at the same time we are more free than we would ever be leading ordinary lives.” Hannibal paused, tilted his head a little and looked at Will intensely. “Don’t you agree?”

Will rubbed his hand nervously, but it was more out of habit than of actual discomfort. For some reason it didn’t feel as unnatural standing this close to Hannibal, maybe Will had just accepted it as the man clearly wasn’t aware of the concept of personal space.

“Freedom does come with great risks,” Will answered. “It is often over before you get a chance to enjoy it. You must admit ordinary life is much more secure.”

“But security is not what you are after, is it?”

Will felt like Hannibal’s words echoed from the walls, and he stopped to think for a moment before answering.

“No, it’s not.”

Hannibal raised his hand to touch Will’s cheek, and slowly trailed it to his neck.

“Then what are you after Will?”

He kept his eyes locked with Will’s for a moment, but then lowered his hand and walked towards the door. At the door he stopped and turned around once more.

“Come to the dining room once you have gotten dressed. Dinner is ready.” After saying this he was gone before Will could respond.

A few minutes passed before Will made any attempt of putting the clothes on. His heart was beating violently against his chest, and he felt as if he was frozen in place. _“Get yourself together,”_ he  told himself. _“There’s no use getting scared now, it’s all too far gone.”_ Despite this lame pep talk his hands were shaking, and even though Will didn’t fully admit it to himself, it wasn’t fully out of fear.

…

Hannibal wasn’t in the dining room when Will got there, but the table had been set and he sat down. The table stood out of the modern furnishings. It was made out of mahogany, and there were delicate ornaments engraved into its corners. A bottle of wine was placed in the middle, and Will hoped he could pour himself a glass before Hannibal came back, but didn’t want to seem coarse. Still he could’ve really used the encouragement. Will was staring at his empty glass when Hannibal came in carrying two plates.

“Canard à la rouennaise,” Hannibal said, lowering the plate and placing it in front of Will. “It is truly a dish that honors every part of the animal. The meat, usually duck, is served with a sauce made out of its blood and bone marrow.” Will felt shivers run down his spine as he thought about what the meat was this time, and was thankful when Hannibal filled his glass with wine.

“Quite extravagant, Dr. Lecter,” he said and saw Hannibal’s expression become mildly amused.

“It has been a long time since I’ve had the chance to put my anatomical knowledge to use. It feels rather liberating.” Will watched Hannibal as he took his place at the other end of the table and unbuttoned his suit jacket with one hand while with the other placed the wine bottle onto the table. Will had never seen Hannibal wear anything else than a prison suit, but still the new attire looked much more natural. Come to think of it, he had been imagining Hannibal in a three-piece suit since their first meeting.

“Your food is getting cold,” Hannibal said and cut out a piece of his own dish, bit down to it and looked at Will expectantly. Will realized he had already drank most of his wine, and placed the nearly empty glass on the table feeling moderately embarrassed. He tried the meat, and was taken aback by how normal it tasted. The rich sauce covered most of the nuances, and Will understood how no one had gotten suspicious about Hannibal before his arrest. In a way the dish was exactly like Hannibal himself: it too hid its true nature behind a veil of elegance.

“It’s good,” Will said and took a sip of his wine. Hannibal looked smug.

“You sound almost surprised.”

“I am," Will answered. "Even though nothing should probably surprise me at this point.” He reached for the wine bottle, but Hannibal was faster and picked up the bottle, proceeding to fill Will’s glass again.

“What a dull life it would be if there was nothing to be surprised by,” Hannibal said. Will was starting to get drunk, and as a response raised his half-empty glass into the air.

“To surprises then,” he said and smiled. The corners of Hannibal’s mouth twitched up at Will’s sudden change of mood. He raised his own glass, which he still had not finished, and gave Will an obscure look. "And all the mayhem they bring along.”

Will realized he was pressing his foot against Hannibal’s, but was way too drunk to feel ashamed, and on a whim continued rubbing Hannibal’s calf with his toes. Hannibal looked intrigued and slid his feet towards Will to respond to the touch.

“You know, maybe you were right,” Will said and moved his foot a little higher on Hannibal’s leg. “About living one’s life without the interference of others. I do feel more free, as if I don’t need to justify my actions to anyone else.” Hannibal's conceited, and Will had to resist the temptation to add “but don’t get too cocky”.

“Freedom often opens our minds to experimentation," Hannibal said. "When one abandons the opinions of others, fulfilling their own desires becomes their primary goal.” The words rolled softly from his lips, and Will shivered again, although this time it definitely wasn’t caused by fear.

“You must have been missing the experimentation, fulfilling your desires,” Will said and was startled by how foreign his voice sounded. It was deep and husky, somehow darker than usually.

“I certainly have,” Hannibal said with a mischievous smile lingering on his lips. “And I imagine you’ve been too.”

Will looked away and lowered his glass to refill it. This time Hannibal didn’t interfere when he grabbed the almost empty bottle. Will gave it a disapproving look.

“We need more wine,” he said and poured the rest of the wine in Hannibal's already empty glass.

“And we shall have some. The wine collection here is extensive.”

“Of course it is.” Will gave a faint chuckle. He looked down at his plate, and realized he had almost finished his meal. It had been easier than he had thought, although the wine had admittedly played a large part. Hannibal excused himself and got up to retrieve another bottle of wine. Will sat there silently for a moment, but then stood up and walked, or more likely faltered to the other side of the room. He had stopped to inspect a painting hanging on the wall when Hannibal came back and approached him.

“Achilles lamenting the death on Patroclus. Are you familiar with the story?” Will turned around and looked directly at Hannibal.

“More or less,” he said and handed his glass over to Hannibal for a refill. Hannibal took hold of it but didn’t take it from Will. Instead he placed his fingers on top of Will’s, and after pouring the wine kept them entwined, raising his head to gaze into Will’s eyes. Will raised his other hand to stroke Hannibal’s arm, and was surprised by how easy it was for him. Touching Hannibal felt somehow natural, and without really thinking about it he leaned closer, smelling the expensive wine in Hannibal’s breath.

For the first time during that evening Will realized the other man was slightly drunk too. All that wine had disrupted Will’s already mixed up thoughts, and he didn’t even realize what was happening until his lips crashed on Hannibal's. But as the other man kissed him back hungrily, Will knew he couldn’t entirely blame what was happening on alcohol.

“ _If I stopped this now, I might be able to walk away with some dignity left,”_ Will heard his thoughts under a veil of haziness caused by the wine and Hannibal‘s lips on his. But Will didn’t want it to stop, and he didn’t try to stop Hannibal when he almost viole ntly pushed Will against a wall. Will slid his hands under Hannibal's shirt, digging his nails into the skin of his muscular back, which made the other man moan from both pleasure and pain. At that moment Will wanted to cut Hannibal’s throat open, as well as to kiss him tenderly. He wanted to softly caress his body, and to slam it on the floor. Will couldn’t tell the difference between Hannibal’s thoughts and his own, and he wasn’t sure if there even was a difference anymore. All Will knew was how much he wanted Hannibal, and how much Hannibal wanted him, and it felt right, it felt good.

A moan escaped Wills swollen lips when he felt Hannibal bite down on his neck. He traced his lips softly to Wills shoulder, and without warning bit him again, hard enough to draw blood. With shaking hands Will tried to unbutton Hannibal’s shirt, but it clearly took too long, as Hannibal finished unbuttoning it himself. Will slid the shirt, that probably cost more than his whole wardrobe, off Hannibal’s shoulders. _That pretentious shit_ , Will thought to himself with a smile lingering on his lips.

“You are drunk,” Hannibal whispered, and his breath felt hot on Wills neck. Damn, that voice could make anything sound like dirty talk.

“Well I’m blaming it on you, doctor.”

Hannibal pressed his face on Wills shoulder, and Will could feel him smiling. Next thing he felt was the floor disappearing under his feet as Hannibal lifted him on his arms and carried him to the bedroom. He put him down and pushed him against the door. Suddenly there was a hand on his throat, and Hannibal pinning him harder to the door behind them. For a moment it made Will's mind go blank, and all he wanted was to hand all control away - even if it meant he couldn't get any oxygen.

“Take off your shirt.” Hannibal's voice was raw and his eyes almost black, filled with lust and maybe something else. Will realized this was the first time he saw Hannibal show any emotion so distinctly. Hannibal loosened his grip, as to let Will do what he’d been told to. He didn’t expect for Will to push him on the bed with surprising strength, considering his current state.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

Will still pulled his shirt over his head, and let it fall on the floor. He could feel Hannibal's gaze burning his skin, and as he dropped on his knees in front of him Will saw the man lick his lips.

Will pressed his face against Hannibal's thigh, and breathed slowly few times to relax. Although he wasn't a virgin he had never been with a man - never even though about it before Hannibal - and it had never been this intense. He wasn't used to anything else than one night stands.

The bulge in Hannibal's pants felt huge, and where that really wasn't a surprise it felt so different actually knowing it, and being able to concretely touch him with his lips. Shivers ran through Will's spine as he undid Hannibal's buckle, opened the button and lowered his zip. It felt like a ritual that would lead him somewhere he wouldn't be able to return from.

Will slid his hand inside, squeezing him through his white boxers and feeling the corners of his mouth turn up when Hannibal gasped. Knowing that the other man who was claimed to be in full control of everything was hard because of him, was an arousing and dizzying thought. Even though he was the one on his knees, Will felt more in control and powerful than ever before in his life.

Will tugged Hannibal's trousers down his legs, and threw them to the corner of the room. Hannibal didn't complain about the way he treated his clothes, just lied on his back in his underpants. Will crawled up his body on hands and knees, wanting to bite, kiss, tear his organs out, and make love. Preferably at the same time. He settled on open mouthed kisses on his hips, slowly getting closer to the waistband, grabbing it with his teeth and tearing it off as Hannibal lifted his hips to help.

As Hannibal's cock slapped against his stomach when released, Will feverishly tried to remember the times someone had gone down on him, or the few porn videos he'd seen. It wasn't helping much - he didn't like porn, the forced moans and 'good girl's just made him want to laugh, and he avoided looking down when someone was blowing him.

"Are you thinking about killing me?" Hannibal asked, for some reason making Will blush. He looked down, rather studying Hannibal's dick than his eyes. The picture didn't help with the heat on his face, though.

"Does the though turn you on?" he responded.

"The concept of my death isn't arousing to me, no. You killing me - I find it fascinating," Hannibal said. Will moved his hand to touch him, just gracing the length to get a feeling of it. A quiet moan escaped Hannibal's lips.

"You could just say sexy - but of course you're too fancy for that," Will stated smirking.

Hannibal sighed. "I find the image of you killing me sexy." Will hummed in appreciation. Hannibal's soft accent wrapped around the word, making it richer, deeper. Or maybe it was just Will's drunken mind.

Hannibal grabbed Will's hair, forcing him to look up. "I prefer eye contact," he whispered. "I also prefer action."

"You're impatient Dr Lecter," Will whispered back. "You want me so much your highly contained facade is falling apart. That, turns me on." He stopped the gentle stroking, and pressed his fingers to the tip of Hannibal's dick, spreading the precome around and massaging the head. Hannibal's back curled in pleasure, his hands pressing Will's head down. Will decided to go with it.

A salty taste filled his mouth, the skin was soft against his lips but hard under, and Will found the pressure on his tongue quite bearable. Hannibal's moans got raspier and more animal like, which encouraged Will to sink deeper, to challenge his throat muscles. When Hannibal hit the back of his throat Will gagged making his eyes tear up, but he refused to back up. He waited just as long as it took him to adjust and then pressed Hannibal past the ring of muscles.

Hannibal didn't break the eye contact, and didn't yank Will's hair too hard, even though he wanted to ravish this man. Will's mouth was so hot and wet around him, within the three years on the prison he'd almost forgotten the feeling. He wanted to tie Will to the bed and fuck him until he couldn't even scream anymore, but that could wait - for now.

The length slowly slid in and out of Will's mouth, the pace quickening with every bob. When Will seemed to have found a routine, Hannibal tightened his grip in his hair, starting to thrust his hips up into Will's mouth and controlling the movements of his head. Will gave up for him, relaxing into it and letting Hannibal fuck his mouth.

The sounds Hannibal was making went straight into Will's own cock, desperately hard for being ignored for so long. He started grinding down on Hannibal's leg on a sloppy rhythm, already close to the edge.

_"Jis jaučiasi - taip nuostabi!"_ Hannibal groaned, before coming into Will's mouth in quick sputters. It was enough to send Will over the edge too, coming h ard in his pants. They both shook through their orgasms, Hannibal having let go of Will's head he just sucked the head and circled it with his tongue until the sensation got too much and Hannibal pushed him away.

Will's head felt dizzy and clear at the same time when he pressed himself against Hannibal's side and lied down. He nuzzled his head into Hannibal's neck, and started giggling.

"I just blew off a serial killer - imagine if everybody knew I blew off a serial killer," he said, and started giggling even harder. Hannibal raised his eyebrows, slightly amused.

"How does that make you feel?" he asked, making Will shake with laughter.

"You're a cannibal and I just had you in my mouth - there must be some joke about that but I don't remember," Will answered, still giggling.

"You're tired," Hannibal said, stroking Will's hair. He wiped off a drop of come from his cheek with his thumb, bringing it to Will's lips. Will licked it off.

"You must admit it's funny," he said after Hannibal removed his thumb from his mouth.

Hannibal chuckled. "I'm starting to feel like I took advantage on a drunk person."

"No - no no no, I would have - I've had dreams about you, us, I get, I want you, I don't know why - I usually like women but then again I usually don't like anyone, but then you came along - I am not making sense am I?" Will looked into Hannibal's eyes piercingly.

"Not much," Hannibal admitted. "Will you regret this tomorrow?"

"Possibly. Doesn't matter. I'm tired," Will mumbled against Hannibal's shoulder.

"Good night Will."

"Good night Dr. Lecter."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Hannibal says is supposed to mean "it feels - so amazing" (yes he's extremely literal when he's coming) at least according to google translate. If any of you speak Lithuanian feel free to correct us in the comments. Or just feel free to say anything in general, we're really happy to get any kind of feedback!

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it leave kudos and comment here or come talk to us  
> tumblr: dragonlands Twitter: @hannigramdesign  
> and  
> tumblr: isherlockedoutofheaven Twitter: @Thannibal


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